


Evermore

by AmiMendal



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drabble, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, POV Severus Snape, Pining, Professors, Tags Are Hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:13:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28178193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmiMendal/pseuds/AmiMendal
Summary: Just a little drabble on Severus pining for our lovely bookworm :-DInspired by the lyrics of “Evermore” from Beauty and the Beast which are italicized. I do not claim ownership.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 5
Kudos: 33





	Evermore

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little drabble on Severus pining for our lovely bookworm :-D
> 
> Inspired by the lyrics of “Evermore” from Beauty and the Beast which are italicized. I do not claim ownership.

_ I was the master of my fate. _ With The Dark Lord’s fall, every promise I’d made was considered fulfilled and I lived only for myself. The loss of Dumbledore was hard on me but I relished my freedom from more than one side of the war.

But a decade of teaching, even with a Mastery, brings a sort of comfort. Like a tried and true potion recipe, teaching is a rhythm that comes second nature now. I thought I hated my position, but I realized once my bonds were broken, I no longer needed to put on a mask of hatred and contempt. While I would never be the warm and friendly Potions professor, I could at least stop bullying the children that needed guidance.

And that was how I found myself agreeing to sign another contract - three years - to Headmistress McGonagall. Minerva was relieved that I’d agreed, especially considering Horace’s poor health and how terribly she’d treated me after Albus’ death. But I knew it was all necessary. It was that moment, that contract, that changed my life.

Because it allowed Hermione to walk back into it.

She was supposed to be a Ministry drone, or perhaps the head to a charity association of some sort. Instead, she chose to teach.

I tried to ignore her. Really, I did. But her incessant questions led to my own and it seemed we would never stop discussing the intricacies of spell casting or the best fertilizer for the Poyendaria plant. I spent more and more time with her, using books as both my excuse to keep her and my weapon against her.

With each conversation, each debate, each late night discussion - we fell into a comfortable routine. Without me noticing, without conscious consent, _ I let her steal into my melancholy heart.  _ Now I must hide away my yearning.

I'd be a fool to share my feelings. I simply could not bear to lose her friendship because my feelings are - in all likelihood - unrequited. But every morning I wake in hopes of seeing her bright smile at breakfast, of smelling her light shampoo as we discuss books around the fire. My fingers ache to tuck a curl behind her ear but I resist.

_ I rage against the trials of love  _ because I know she can never be mine. How does one allow the epitome of intelligence and grace lower themself to be with a snarling beast like me?

Each evening, as she stands outside the portrait to my rooms and thanks me for another lovely debate, I allow my mind to play a sweet daydream. She'd smile, yes, like she always does, but then she would lean in and kiss my cheek. Chaste, proper, not too untoward - because even the Gryffindor in her could not overtake the delightful innocence that runs through her heart.

Her eyes would glimmer with a promise for more: more kisses, more words, but not tonight.  _ And as the long, long nights begin, I'll think of all that might have been. _


End file.
